A portrait of the inside doesn't necessarily make sense,
until it does.
I just found the photo below which shows the connections
I'm referring to in my Nov. 1, 2012 post.
No, I didn't paint those similar shapes consciously.
Yes, this is part of the fun I have with my art:
I often don't know what I'm painting until there it is,
revealed somewhere along the way.
It's usually a musing case of "ah, so this is what this is."
Then I execute the project with as much intelligence as possible,
bending the brush to fit my philosophical needs.
Madame Bona was a great one for self gifting. See that secret smile? That was her best gift to herself: an attitude that life was always worth living with style, even when style was reduced to sucking a martini through a straw.
My painting, above, is not about this delightful self aspect. It is instead about her inner questionings... what she went through before the cocktail hour.
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